Thursday, July 31, 2014

Jenny went
to the junk drawer and rummaged around.She lifted a key, and with a wrinkled nose, handed it to me.“I think
that is the right one.”

“Think?”

“Pretty
sure…”

It would
have to do.If I had time, I intended to
grab her purse along the way and it might be a moot problem.

I wasn’t
actually as scared as I probably should have been.We had seen very few javelinas about.It seemed unlikely they could magically
appear out of nowhere before I was able to get away.Which made me wonder.Why?

Old Razorback
was smarter than that.What did he know
that I didn’t?

Only one way
to find out.My spear was as sharp as I
could make it.My large butcher knife
was in my belt, at my side, and I was just hoping I wouldn’t poke myself with
it.

“One last
thing,” I said.I took her by the hand
and led her upstairs.I handed her the
hammer and the container of roofing nails.

“As soon as
I’m gone, I want you to nail this sheet of metal to the frame of the door.Use a nail every couple inches, don’t be
stingy.I’m thinking even old Razorback
might have a hard time getting in.”

“What about
Aragorn?” she asked.

“Leave him
outside the door.He’ll let you know
when they’re coming.Might be able to
take out a few of them.Right Aragorn?Eh, Strider?”

I knelt down
and the dog nearly leaped into my arms.“Take are of her,” I whispered.

I looked up
at my wife, who had tears in her eyes.I
knew she wouldn’t leave Aragorn outside, but I had to try.

We hugged
and kissed and I wanted nothing more at that moment to guide her backward to
the bed and make love to her one more time.But I broke away, and started down the stairs.She followed me.

“I mean it,”
I said, without turning around.“Nail
yourself in before dark.”

“I promise.”

Aragon
followed us as far as the entryway to the front door, then he stopped and
looked agitated.He barked once, and I
turned and motioned at him to stop, which being the apparently well-trained dog
he was, he did.

There wasn’t
a lot of planning in what I was doing.Open the door, run for the car, (snagging my wife’s purse along the
way), drive the car to town and get help.That was it.So easy, and so
hard.

I decided
against a last goodbye because I was certain if I turned around and hugged my
wife, I wouldn’t leave.

I opened the
door quietly, and walked quickly down the walk.I grabbed the purse, and kept going, trying to ignore the parts of Peter
still strewn about.For some reason, the
swine had left his head untouched, and it was swelling in the heat, looking
ready to burst.

I made it to
the car without any trouble, looked in Jenny’s purse, found the keys and
started it.I looked down at the gas
gauge and it was full.I couldn’t
believe how easy it was.Why had we been
cowering in the house all this time when all we had to do was this?

I started
driving and hadn’t gone more than few feet before I realized something was
wrong.The car moved sluggishly, and
almost seemed to swerved sideways, and then jerk the to the other side.

I dare to
roll down the window.I looked down and
saw two things.The first was that the
tires I could see were completely shredded.The second was a wave of javelina coming down the street toward me.

I got out,
but instead of running to the house, I sprinted toward Peter’s Toyota SUV,
which was parked at the curb of the street.I couldn’t see the tires, and I was pretty sure what I’d find, but I had
to see.

The car was
low to the ground, the tires so cut and sliced, the car was almost on the wheel
rims.I didn’t stop, because the wave of
javelinas was coming fast.I grabbed the
door, praying it wasn’t locked, and slipped inside.I slammed the door as the first of the pits
crashed into it, and then another.I
could actually see the dents from the inside.

The pigs
milled about the car, and then one got on its hind legs and looked into the
driver’s window, and what I saw then chilled me more than anything else I’d
seen.

The eyes in
this javelina were intelligent, just like Razorback.It seemed almost amused.So it isn’t just a single pig, I
thought.Where there were two, there
were probably multitudes.And if they
could communicate, who knew what they could accomplish?Technology was great, but native cunning
could go a long way.Especially against
a prey who was fat and complacent, who hadn’t had to fend for itself in
generations.

Man had
always prided itself on being different, but maybe it was only a difference of
degrees, and the gap between the degrees had just shrunk.

Meanwhile a
human of perhaps just a little above average intelligence was trapped.

I knew that
cars would drive even on the raw wheel rims.Wasn’t good for them, would probably wreck them for the future, but
there was no future if I didn’t get out of here.I figure the car could go for a ways.But without the keys, I couldn’t even do
that.

I searched
the glove box, and the windshields.Nothing.I sat back and huffed in
frustration.Out of the frying pan, and
into the fire.

Only good
then was that I didn’t think the pigs could get to me as long as I was in the
SUV.They wouldn’t have an angle on the
glass, so brute force wouldn’t do it.

As I was
thinking that, feeling just a tiny bit safe, I saw the intelligent pig go to
the side of the road and pick up a rock with his teeth.It swung his neck and the rock came flying
toward me and slammed against the door, just inches below the door.

I swear the
pig was measuring the distance.If it
was a human, he have raised his fingers and blurred his eyes and tried to
measure.It tossed a second rock and it
smashed against the window, but by some miracle didn’t shatter.

But I know
that when it did, the whole window would give way.They were designed that way, to break into
tiny pieces.

I ran my
hand along the bottom of the seat.Don’t
know what compelled me to do that, but the instinct was right.I felt the keys, tucked into the folds of the
seat.

I pulled
them out and tried the bigger of the two keys, and the car started.I started driving away, and the car groaned
as if it was alive, the motor whined, and I could see sparks shooting from the
tire rims.

I had to
turn, and when I turned the steering wheel, the car just kept sliding forward
on the asphalt for a few yards, sending up even more sparks.When it came to full stop, I tried again,
steering a little less abruptly, and the rims took hold and the car slowly
turned.

The
javelinas had just watched at first, but as I headed downhill, they began to
follow.They didn’t even have to run at
the pace I was going, just trot behind.The smart pig loped along beside me, and when I caught its eye, it
seemed to leer at me.

Must be my
imagination, I thought.Pigs don’t wink,
do they?

The car
picked up speed as we headed down, but the minute we hit an upslope, it began
to slow, losing traction.I barely made
it over the hump, and when I saw the next hill, I tried to accelerate, despite
the alarming amount of sparks it sent off.

The engine
was laboring, and was edging into red.Unlike my wife’s car, this SUV had only a quarter of a tank to start
with, and the extra friction seemed to be drawing down on that quickly.

The pigs are herding me, Mark realized.Away
from his apartment, away from Peggy.He
stopped and loaded the rifle, then poured the rest of the bullets into his
pocket, where he could get at them easier.

Two can play at that game, he thought.

Every time
they got in his way, he lifted the rifle and fired.He hit his target every time.He’d always been a good shot.He spent hours in an old cinderblock building
at the edge of town, wearing earmuff, shooting at targets on wires, pulling
them pack, checking his score.

He was just
lucky this rifle was miraculously zeroed in.Either that or it was miraculously compensating for his being off
target.

He smiled
grimly.He still couldn’t believe these
pig creatures could hurt him.But he’d
seen the tusks on the first one he killed, so he was wary.

Then he
stumbled across his boss.

The
javelinas were herding him into the mouth of an alley.He stood his ground, sensing that if they
managed to corner him in there, he was done for.He shot a charging javelina and reloaded in
seconds.He was getting pretty good at
it already.

His pocket
was half empty of ammo, but all he wanted to do was make it home.

He started
to walk away from the alley, when he saw the body just a few feet in.That was shocking enough, but when he’d saw
the red coat, he nearly buckled at the knees.

Joe Sanders
was a loud, garish kind of guy.But nice
as could be.He wore a red sports coat
to work.Called it his uniform.His signature look.

Now his face
was as red as his coat.His trousers
were red too.His viscera spread out all
over the alley was red, and yellow and…

Mark leaned
over and threw up.

A javelina
took the opportunity to charge.He stood
and blew the creature backward.Then he
keep marching toward the pack, firing and reloading, firing and reloading,
killing one of the pigs with every step.

When there
was only two left, they bolted.

Mark turned
around and walked straight for his apartment, gun at the ready.Twice more he saw one of the javelinas, twice
more he fired and hit.

His pocket
was no longer jingling with bullets when he reached the grocery store.Peggy worked there, and got off a couple of
hours before he did.They’d gotten a
sweet deal on the apartment, so much so that even though both of them weren’t
earning much more than minimum wage they were managing to save money.

The money
was for sending him to art school, or so Peggy thought.

But the
money was really for buying a ring and getting married.That’s what Mark thought.

The door at
the side of the grocery was unlocked, and he entered warily.Then realized there was no way the damn pigs
could turn the nob.He stopped and
counted the bullets left.Fourteen out
of fifty.How was that possible?It seemed to him that he’d rarely missed his
target.Just how many of those monsters
were there?Why did they keep throwing
themselves at him?

Just what
the hell was going on?

He looked
down at his trousers.They were his work
pants, the only pants he owned that weren’t jeans.The bottom was covered with mud and blood and
viscera.How was he going to explain
that to Peggy?

He tromped
up the stairs and tried to open the door. It was locked.He was stunned.It was never
locked.

“Peggy?” he
said, in a low, wondering voice.

The door
flew open and she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him in.Not until the door slammed shut, and lock was
turned, did she throw himself into his arms.

“Thank God,
you’re home.”

And Mark
knew he didn’t have to explain the blood and the mud and the viscera.

I tried the
tap water with some trepidation, but it still flowed.We washed off the whining dog as best we
could.I felt the tag around its neck
and checked it.

“Welcome to
our humble abode, Aragorn,” I said to it, who with the name became a ‘he.’The dog wagged his tail at the sound of his
name.

We fed him a
can of stew, the best we could do, being a non-pet household.Aragorn went to the corner of the living room
carpet -- about as far from the four walls of the house as it could get -- and
went to sleep.

“Where is
the help?” Jenny asked, which was the same thing I was thinking.“Police, firemen?Shit, where’s the army?”

“Watch your
mouth, woman,” I growled, and then smiled.

She didn’t
return the smile.“No, really.What the hell.A few machine guns and they could take care
of this problem.”

“Well…” I
raised my hands in mock surrender.“But
think about our little neck of the woods.We’re completely isolated.No
phone, no Internet.They’ve got us
trapped.Maybe it’s more widespread than
we’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah, old
Razorback is a sight to behold.He’s a
mutant, or something.But…he still has
hoofs, not opposable thumbs.I don’t
think he’s anything but a very, very…very smart pig.”

“Smarter
than us, apparently,” she said.

I started
laughing, and she looked sheepish at first and then joined me.Gallows humor, maybe, but it felt good.

“What do we
do now?” she asked.

“Stay put,
like the man said.Though…”

“Though
what?”

“Well, I
heard somewhere that in times of disaster the best thing to do is move
around.Get out of the trouble area…”

“You think
its that bad?”

“Nah,” I
said, sounding more cheerful than I felt.“How could it be?They’re just
pigs…”

***

We didn’t
really need the candles.We went to bed
almost immediately after dark.We were
only under the covers for a few moments before we heard whining and scratching
at the door.We let Aragorn in, and he
jumped up onto the foot of the bed and lay down between our feet.

Neither of
us objected.It felt comforting to have
the animal there.Besides, I thought,
it’s the best early warning system we could have.

Strangely,
nothing happened.Not even a grunt or a
snort.The javelinas left us alone that
night.But when we woke up in the
morning, the cloud was full of smoke.It
was coming from every direction, as if every other house in the subdivision was
on fire.

I’d loved
the isolation when we first got here.Now I was regretting it.

We made a
cold breakfast, deciding to eat as much of the perishables as quickly as we
could.Aragorn whined and wound around
our feet, nearly tripping us more than once, before Jenny suddenly cried out,
with a slap to the head.

“He needs to
go potty!”

We looked
around us, helplessly.I took him to the
garage.The dog looked at me doubtfully,
but eventually found a spot in the corner and did his business.After that he was friskier and friendlier
than ever.As if he’d forgotten there
was ever a danger.

“You know
what?” Jenny said, after giving the dog a hug.“After this, I’d like to get a dog. I know you’re worried about your
garden…”

I pointed
out the back window.“You mean that garden?I agree, Jenny, let’s get a dog.And a cat, too, dammit.”

“Maybe we
can keep…” she suddenly stopped, as if realizing by saying it out loud she was
admitting the Underwood’s were dead.

“Yeah,
maybe,” I answered.

Once or
twice during the morning, Aragorn growled, and we’d stiffen and get up and look
out the window fearfully.But each time
it was a single javelina, or a small pack.

It all
seemed very strange.We were now in the
second day, without hearing from the outside.By now, the whole world should have been alerted that something was
happening in our little corner of Arizona.

Maybe they
had, I thought with sudden chill.Maybe
everyone else has already been saved.Maybe they’ve just forgotten about us.

Hamilton
wouldn’t let that happen.

With that
thought, I froze.

No…he wouldn’t let that happen.So that meant that something has happened to
Hamilton, and if it could happen to the Animal Control officer, it could happen
to anyone.It could happen to us.

I knew at
that moment that it was a mistake to stay another day.

***

“I need a
broom handle,” I said.

Jenny didn’t
question my request.She went to the
pantry and returned with a broom.My
last birthday present to her had been hiring a local maid service.Too late, I’d discovered that just made Jenny
madly clean the house the day before the cleaners showed up.No amount of pleading would keep her from
doing it.“Just a little touch up,”
she’d say.“I don’t want to be
embarrassed.”

I broke off
the broom end, hobbled to the kitchen, and tried several knives on the wood
before finding one sharp enough to do the job.I whittled the end to a sharp point in short order, the panic in my arms
and fingers carving long slivers out of the wood.

Jenny and
Aragorn watched me for a while.

“What are
you doing?” she asked.

“Making a
spear,” I said.

“I can see
that,” she said, when I didn’t look up.“Why are you making a spear?”

“Just extra
protection,” I said.

“Dear
husband of mine,” she said, and I finally looked up.“When you won’t look me in the eye, I know
you’re lying.That’s always been your
tell.I’m telling you this so that
you’ll realize how serious I am, giving up the little advantage I’ve had over
you all these years, knowing when you’re lying.I will ask again, why are you
making a spear?”

“I need to get
help,” I said.“Razorback is just toying
with us.He can get in any time. All he
has to do is send one of his minions headfirst into the glass, and he’s
in.How long will our bedroom door hold
up?How are we going to defend ourselves
with knives and a hammer?”

“I agree,”
she said, completely surprising me.“But…”

I looked up
from my whittling again.

“Why does it
have to be you?I can drive a car just
as fast as you can…faster, frankly.”

“Nope,” I
said.“That’s not the way it’s going to
be?”

“Why
not?Why should you do the dangerous
thing?Because you’re a man?”

“No!” I
shouted, and I could see she was taken aback.I’d rarely yelled at her during our marriage.Moreover, I usually acceded to her demands.

“It isn’t
about being a man or a woman.It’s about
being you…and me…”

She didn’t
say anything, just waited for me to continue.

“Because
without me…you’ll still be all right.” She started to object, and I held up my
hand.“Oh, you’d be sad, I know
that.You might be devastated, but you
know what?You’d get on with life.You’re tough, sensible.It will hurt, but there is still life in
you.”

“What about
you?You’ve got as much…”

“No,” I
said, firmly.“Without you, I’m
lost.I’ve always known it.I’ve dreaded it.Every day of my life with you I’ve been
thankful you plucked me out of my hermitage…” Again she opened her mouth to
object, and I put my hands on her lips to shush her.“It’s true.You may not believe it, but I’ve always known.I don’t want to be alone, Jenny.And that’s what would happen.”

“You don’t
know that,” she finally said.

“Yeah…I do.”

She didn’t
say anything more, because we both knew, as fucked up as it may seem, I was
right.

“I’ll be
careful,” I said.I cracked to door open
before she could protest again.I stuck
my nose out and sniffed.No pig
smell.No grunts.No banging and crashing.I still didn’t think they were canny enough
to lay a trap, though after last night’s events, I wasn’t so sure.

I hurried
downstairs, being as quiet as I could, the heavy flashlight in my hands despite
the brightness of the day.

I stepped
into the kitchen, flashlight raised.The
room was empty.It occurred to me then
that I could maybe find another weapon.I opened the drawer next to the oven.There is was, the massive butcher knife that I’d given to Jenny one
Christmas and which, as far I knew, had never been used.All the sharper for it, I thought.I transferred the flashlight to my left hand
and grabbed the knife.Only then did I
approach the sliding glass doors.

The crack
ran nearly the entire perpendicular length of the door.Just outside lay a dead pig, its neck broken
by the impact.

I didn’t
recognize the patio or the backyard.Everything was broken beyond repair.The umbrella, which had been over the table, was in shreds. Every flower and bush was pulled out of the
ground, and though I could still see hints of green in the lawn, most of it was
torn up.

There was
pig shit everywhere.

“That’s
fucking intentional,” I said aloud, somehow more offended by this than anything
else I’d seen.“You creepy animals.”

I put my
finger to the crack.The door was double
paned, and the crack was on the outside one.I suppose I should have been reassured, but I wasn’t.How long before old Razorback convinced a few
more of his followers to commit hari kari?

I heard a sound behind me and whirled, knife
raised.

Jenny was
staring at the chaos outside with wide eyes.

“Whatever
did we do to them?” she asked, sounding offended.

“Seems to me
we provided them with a daily banquet,” I said.“A veritable buffet.”

She was
shaking her head, absently picking up the dropped containers of food.When her hands were full, she pulled out a
fresh trash bag from below the sink, and dropped the food inside.She went to the pantry and kept filling
it.Then went and got another bag and
started filling it.

Without a
word, I picked up the first bag of food and took it upstairs to the
bedroom.While I was there, I filled the
bathtub with water; not to drink, but because so far the pigs had been one step
ahead of us and I just didn’t know what they were capable of.I didn’t know how they could cut off the
water, but that’s what worried me -- not knowing.

When I went back
downstairs, Jenny was looking thoughtfully through the knives, one by one,
hefting them.A little bit of a chill
went down my spine, but I didn’t say anything.I just wished we could do better for weapons.I’d always been anti-gun and it burned my ass
that the gun nuts might have been right.About Armageddon, at least.

With that
thought in mind, I went to the garage.Our garage was full of junk, which was the unfortunate reason for the
car being parked out of reach outside.But it was my chance to find something useful.All
this junk was saved for some reason, I thought.For the
day we needed it. Well, todays the day.

But it turns
out none of the junk was much use in a pig apocalypse.

A Porkolypse, I thought, and smiled.A Hamaggeden.

I found a
hammer, and decided that it made more sense as a weapon than a flashlight,
especially considering I wouldn’t be smashing the bulb and making the
flashlight useless.

There was a
sheet of corrugated metal against one wall, from when I’d thought of building a
shed.That was when I was still thinking
like a Bendite, and believed I’d need to protect my equipment from the snow.

I wrestled
it into the house and took it upstairs and leaned it against the bedroom
wall.Then I went to the garage again
and rummaged around until I found some nails.They were roofing nails, but there was a full container of them and I
thought they’d do the job.

Meanwhile,
Jenny had managed to get most of the food upstairs.

“You think
we’re going to be here for months?” I asked.

“Never hurts
to be prepared,” she said cheerfully.“Or maybe I just want a choice in my meals.”

I trotted
down the stairs, and at the bottom it suddenly occurred to me what I’d just
done.I hadn’t walked down the stairs --
no worse, I thought, hadn’t trudged
down the stairs.I had nearly skipped
down the stairs, humming a happy tune.I
shook my head at the mystery of it, and went back into the garage and started
just piling boxes on the floor, making a total mess of things, just looking for
something useful for the next few nights.

I was sure
the authorities would rescue us by the end of the day, or at least by tomorrow.But if we had to spend another night here, I
wanted to be prepared.

Suddenly,
Bend, Oregon with all its hipsters and snow wasn’t looking so bad.Especially because there was one thing the
town lacked -- javelinas.The occasional
cougar perhaps, but cougars were sensible enough to run when given the chance.

When I finally
gave up my Easter egg hunt, Jenny was back in the kitchen, at the stove,
cooking some ham and eggs.“Might be our
last chance at a hot meal,” she said.She too was humming, and it occurred to me that our danger had brought
us together, given us a purpose together, and that both of us were liking it.

Still…there
ought to be an easier way.When this was
all over, I was going to try harder to find activities that we both enjoyed and
which had more meaning than card games and pickle ball.

We sat at
the dining room table for once.We
didn’t even glance at the TV, though it passed through my mind that perhaps
there was some news there.Or on the
radio.Right after breakfast I
thought.Or lunch.Or brunch, or whatever this was.Whatever it was, it was nice, to just be
sitting with Jenny.

We sat
eating quietly, trying to ignore the mess outside.There wasn’t a javelina in sight.It was beginning to seem like it had been a
bad dream, and that was now over.The
brightness of the sun, the clear blue sky.Nothing threatening in sight.

After
brunch, I got up and turned on the TV.There was nothing but snowy reception.I switched off the cable connection and tried over the air.We could sometimes get the nearest channel,
though not clearly.

I found it
and turned up the volume and tried to make sense of the words through the white
noise.It was local weatherman, but he
was sitting at the anchor desk.

“Stay
indoors,” he was saying.“I repeat, stay
in doors.Help is on the way.”

And with
that, the TV blinked off.In the
background, the refrigerator went silent.It always let out a low hum, of which I was aware, but which was just
part of the normal background.The
sudden absence of the hum was impossible to ignore.

“The
bastards cut the electricity,” Jenny said.

“I don’t see
how that’s possible.Those are overhead
lines.”

I went to
the corner of the house that overlooked the posts that brought in the
electricity and saw the wires hanging down, sparking as they waved in the
wind.

How the hell did they do that? I wondered.

Jenny was
standing at the patio door.I wanted to
tell her to get away from it, but didn’t want to scare her.I hurried to her side, planning to move her
gently back.Then I saw what she was
looking at.

It looked
like a hundred of the pigs, chasing a dog.It was sprinting with all its might for our patio door.

Before I
could stop her, Jenny was opening the door.She gave me a look that said, ‘don’t argue.’

The gold
retriever, though it was so filthy it was hard to recognize, shot through the
opening and Jenny slammed the door shut and latched it as the first javelina
slid into the glass.The outside panel
of glass shattered, and I heard the pig squealing as broken shards rained down
on it.Thankfully, the inner panel
stayed in place.A large piece of glass went
into its neck and it fell on its side and twitched once, twice…and was
still.

Supposed to be safety glass, I thought to myself.Isn’t
supposed to do that.

The pigs
were milling about outside, pushing each other aside, sometimes leaping over
their fellows.A twirling, jumbled mass.

Then they
were suddenly quiet, lining up almost in neat rows, in ranks, as impossible as
that seemed.

Razorback
walked down the middle and looked at the two of us.It stared up at us with calm yellow
eyes.Then it turned casually and walked
away.

To me, it
seemed to be saying, ‘I can get you anytime.You’re just meat in a can.’

“What was
that!” Jenny cried, and I realized that she hadn’t yet met old Razorback.

“That, my
dear, is the cause of all our troubles.”A glimmer of an idea rose in the back of my mind.Take
out the leader, I thought.But the
idea was so outrageous, so desperate; I dismissed it.

Like the guy
on TV said.Help is on the way.

Except why
had it been the weatherman?And why had
the studio been so empty and why had the camera been at such an odd angle and
why had he sounded as if the microphone was yards away?

The dog had
flopped on its side the moment it was inside and was breathing hard.It looked up at us with trusting but panicked
eyes.

“That’s the
Underwood’s dog,” Jenny said.“What do
you think happened?”

I looked at
the blood all over the dog’s normally silky fur, and what looked like bits of
meat and gristle attached.I didn’t tell
Jenny where I thought the Underwoods -- or at least part of them --- were.

Barbara
Weiss was getting tired of waiting.She
knew the pigs wanted to attack.In the
late afternoon, one of them walked right up to the window and looked her in the
eye.It wasn’t an animal who stared at
her, but another thinking being.A mean
one.

She
recognized the look.She’d seen in the
eyes of the psychopaths she’d been lucky enough to catch and put away.Worse she’d seen in the eyes of the smarter
psychopaths she hadn’t been able to catch and put away.

There was a
breakdown in authority in this county.She recognized the signs.Once,
when a wildfire had nearly consumed the west side of the neighboring town of
Redmond, the sheriff of that county had called in a panic.He was completely ineffectual, and she drove
the thirty miles in ten minutes and took over.

But
meanwhile, the criminals had been free to do their damndest, while the
officials tried to control the panic.Never should have got that far, but it happened.

No one was
in charge here. There had been that tone in the 9-1-1 operators’ voice, the one
that said she was scared and didn’t know what to do and there was no one who
could tell her.

To hell with it, Barbara thought.I’m retired.

Besides,
there was no chance that they’d let some strange woman take over.It had been bad enough in Crook County, where
she’d had decades of experience to back her up.

She had
thirty-six bullets in her box, and the fifteen in her clip. There was another
clip in the glove box of the car and she decided to go get it.

She opened
the door carefully, but there wasn’t a pig to be seen.She walked quickly down the walk.She’d learned from experience to move
steadily, with economy of movement, and she’d get the job done faster and more
efficiently than if she hurried.She got
to the car, opened the passenger door, dropped the glove box and reached in for
the clip.She was keeping an eye and ear
out for the pigs, so when one came around the corner and stopped dead in its
tracks, she watched it carefully.

It raised
its snout and squealed.

She put the
clip in her pocket and turned to walk back the house.She sensed a single javelina wouldn’t attack.

But fifteen
would.They came around the house at a
full run.She stopped and turned toward
them.Training took over.Moving target, friend or foe.Well, this was easy.All foes.

She dropped
one, then another, then a third.Several
of the others tripped and tumbled over their dead mates.Barbara killed the lead pig each time, and it
seemed to sink into their consciousness because suddenly, none of them were in
a hurry to be first.

Then the
intelligent javelina, the Mean One, came around the corner, staying well back.
It grunted commands and the pigs surged forward again.

Barbara had
been slowly retreating to the house the whole time.She was halfway there.Again she stopped and squared up on the
pigs.She fired steadily, one by one,
and it was a slaughter.

Then she
missed, and in the second it took to fire again, the next animal was five feet
closer.The others followed.She missed again, and now they were ten feet
closer.She tried to keep the panic
down, to fire steadily, but her nerves overrode her brain, and she missed two
more times, even at close range.

Then she was
clicking on an empty chamber.She turned
and ran for the open door, pulling the extra clip out of her pocket and sliding
it home.She felt a sharp pain in her
right leg, and staggered.

Fuck it, she
thought.If I’m going to get killed by pigs, it won’t be by running from them.

She stopped,
and several of the pigs actually went by her and had to turn around.

Suddenly it
was as if she could see and hear everything.Her hand was steady, and it seemed like her hand moved in a blur.Blam, blam, blam.The rest of the javelinas went down.

Without a
second thought, she turned to where she’d last noticed the Mean One, but it was
already turning and running.She wasted
the last five bullets of her clip trying to hit it, but it was gone.

She turned
and limped into the house and slammed the door.Her legs began shaking so badly, she sat down on the small rug at the
entrance.She felt dizzy. She looked
down at her leg.It didn’t hurt, but her
entire pants leg was soaked.She was
going to bleed out.

She pulled
out her belt and circled her upper thigh and cinched as tight as she could.Holding onto the belt, keeping the pressure,
she made it to the bathroom.There was a
jar of superglue there, and scissors.

She cut away
the trousers and groaned at the gash she saw on the fatty part of the back of
her shin.She squeezed the cut together,
nearly poured the glue over it, and held on.

Minutes
passed, and she wasn’t sure if she lost consciousness or not, but somehow she
managed to keep the cut closed.When she
finally let go, her glue covered fingers pulled some of the skin away, but the
cut stayed glued shut.

Then she lay
over on the bathroom matt and passed out.

Pain woke
her.She’d let loose of the tourniquet
while she slept, but it didn’t matter.She hadn’t lost any more blood.She’d survive if the injury didn’t get infected.She had enough antibiotics to keep that from
happening.She needed to drink plenty of
fluids for a while, but she hadn’t lost so much blood that she was incapacitated.

She washed
down some pills.

She took off
the rest of her pants, washed up as best she could, and wrapped some bandages
around the wound.

She limped
her way to bed.Before she fell asleep,
it occurred to her that in her attempt to get a clip of fifteen bullets, she
had expended thirty bullets, for a net loss of fifteen.

She
laughed.It was worth it.

It had been
the most terrifying, the most exhilarating, the most fun experience she’d had
in Arizona.Even more terrifying than
her Internet dates.

But as night
began to fall, he started getting nervous.They were supposed to stay open until 9:00, but they were also supposed
to be staffed by no less than three employees.Hell, if the boss can’t even make in, why should he stay?

The irony
was, he’d probably made more money today than the store had ever earned.People had stripped the store.

But it was
what they were buying that was most alarming.Camping gear, guns, knives, ammo, survival gear, propane, nails,
hammers.Like it was the coming end of
the world.Like a zombie apocalypse.

He kept
hearing the term javelinas, and had to look it up on his cellphone.Some kind of pig.Then his phone service had blinked off.

When the
electricity went out in the store just before dark that was the final
straw.Besides, he was pretty sure he
wasn’t supposed to stay open when the lights were out anyway.

He hurriedly
locked the front door, counted the till, and dropped the money in the
safe.He was headed out the door when he
remembered Mr. Pederson’s words.

“Buy one of your fine wares,” he said, “and take it home with a box of ammunition.”

Rumor was, the
old man was a millionaire and only pretended to be a hick.

Mark turned
around.There was single rifle left in
the entire store, a .30-06, which was just fine with him.It was what he was accustomed to using when
deer hunting.He took a box of shells.He wrote an I.O.U. and slipped it in with his
Hours Sheet.He wasn’t sure what store
policy was about draws, because he hated taking them. He might lose his job, but old man Pederson had
been pretty compelling.

Something was
going on.

He locked
the door behind him, and turned to find the street completely empty.Not a soul in sight, not even a moving
car.The three guys who drank on the
corner and pestered him for loose chain every night even though he hadn’t once
given them any, were gone.

What the
hell is going on?

He wanted to
call Peggy so bad, he couldn’t stand it.It occurred to him that he’d gotten in the habit of calling her every
hour, on the hour.He’d heard of
Internet withdrawal, but never thought he’d suffer from it.This wasn’t Internet withdrawal, he told
himself, this was Peggy withdrawal.

He’d
followed her down to this hot dusty god forsaken place because he was madly in
love with her.He’d thought she was so
smart, so sophisticated, that wherever she had come from had to be smart and
sophisticated too.At least more than
Moscow, Idaho.

He couldn’t
have been more wrong.Wasn’t anyone here
but old people.

He slung the
rifle strap over his shoulder, feeling silly. Even in Moscow, people didn’t
usually walk around with a gun strapped to their back.

He carried
the box of ammunition in his other hand.

It was a
short five-minute walk to their apartment.The town was only so big, but he’d managed to find a job about as far as
he could possibly get.It was OK.It gave him five minutes in the morning to
savor the glow of being in her presence all night and it gave him five minutes
every night to anticipate being in her presence again.Actually, all he had to do was think of her,
and it was as if she was with him.Like
she had pried open a part of his brain and crawled inside.

He smiled at
the image.Maybe he should take up
drawing again while he was down here.He’d wanted to be a comic book artist for a while, and he actually had
some talent.Peggy was always bugging
him to start up again.

He was so lost in the thought that he didn’t
notice the pig at first.It was standing
still, in the middle of the sidewalk, as if waiting for him.He was a dozen yards away before he saw it.

Weird.That’s something you don’t see every
day.But, hey. There were herds of deer wandering around
Moscow, so this was probably the same kind of thing.He took another step forward, expecting the
animal to run away.

Instead, it
lowered its head and took a step toward him.

“Bug off,
you mangy critter!” he shouted, waving his arms.

The pig
backed up a couple steps and then turned again.Something in the angle of its head caught to last of the day’s light,
and it sent a shock into Mark’s chest.He’d seen that look delivering newspapers.A mean look, the look a dog gave when it
wanted to chew your leg off.

He swung the
gun around.He opened the bolt, and then
carefully got to his knees and fumbled with the box of ammo.He pulled out a single bullet, and started to
load, when the animal charged.He managed
to slam the bolt home and take aim.

It wouldn’t
fire.He’d forgot to release the
safety.Amateur mistake, the kind that
cost you chances at a trophy buck.

The kind
that might get you killed.

He didn’t
look for the safety, he just swung the stock with all he might at the charging
pig and connected, sending the animal tumbling off the sidewalk into the
street.As Mark completing the swing,
his finger landed on a familiar feeling switch, and he clicked it.He managed to turn the barrel toward the charging
pig and pull the trigger.

Half of its
head disappeared.It flopped back off
the sidewalk into the street. Mark stepped off and toed it curiously.

So that’s a
javelina?It’s just a hairy pig.

As if in
answer, he heard a grunt.A classic pig
grunt, like from a cartoon.Only it was
joined by a bunch of other grunts.He
turned slowly.Half a block away, a
dozen of the creatures were staring him down.

About Me

I'm Duncan McGeary, owner and/or operator for the last 33 years of Pegasus Books in Downtown Bend, Oregon. These days I'm writing books as well as selling them.
I'm the comic book guy. But even more so, I'm a book book guy. Books of all kinds. Big books and little books, children's and adult, fiction and non-fiction, hardback and paperback and trade paperback and graphic novels. Books with more words than pictures and books with more pictures than words. They are all part of the book world to me, and I love being surrounded by them every day.
I also have a second blog: Pegasus Books, where I list the product coming in over the next week.